April 29th, 2013
I left Oudom Xai, deciding to take the less travelled route
south. I would be cutting out the charming city of Luang Probang, but I had
spent plenty of time there in ’09. I stayed a night in Nong Khiaw, a town I passed
through in 2009 en route to the backpacker hang-out town of Muang Ngoi. Four
years ago, Muang Ngoi was off the radar; it had little electricity and no road
connections. I had heard that it was still a great spot, but there was a
growing collection of ubiquitous ‘Reggae Bars’ and places advertising pizza. It
had recently been connected by road too.
During the course of one week riding, I discovered something
about the loathsome “Banana Pancake” which I hadn’t accounted for: it was
useful. As much as I found it oxymoronic to see places in a foreign country
where western culture already dominates, those places were convenient. The accommodations
were always more to my liking, often cheaper, and easier to find. Internet access
would be much easier to find as well, and restaurants tried their best to make
supremely tasty food.
My night in Nong Khiaw was a welcome return to all of these amenities.
I found a cheap bungalow which overlooked the river. I there were restaurants
everywhere and other travellers to talk to. The substantial Nam Ou river
bisected the town. A concrete bridge spanned high above the river, clearing it
by 100 ft. The steep rise was due to the topography of the area; Nong Khiaw was
pinned in by sheer limestone karsts.
I walked down to the river from my bungalow and felt like I
was in a gorge. Due to burning fields, I hadn’t seen the blue sky all week. Though
obscured, I finally felt the beauty and magnitude of nature while standing at
the river’s edge. Gazing upriver, I saw moving mud-brown water guided by limestone
monoliths on either side, disappearing around a bend. The giant walls were splotchy
with grey and green - forest and rock - shooting
hundreds of feet into the air.
I walked out onto an off-white sand spit where two other
backpackers were playing frisbee. They asked me if I wanted to join, and we tossed
the frisbee as we exchanged philosophies on life. For hours we rambled and threw
the spinning disk. Enclosed by nature, living on the cheap, we didn’t have a
care in the world. In town, I ran into a group motorcycle travellers. Two older
guys, one from the Bronx, and one from West Virginia, had ridden motorcycles all
over Cambodia and into Laos. We talked lazily over coffee; mostly about life
and travel. I read in my hammock until sunset, and gorged myself on Indian food
at night. As much as I hate to admit it, the Banana Pancake trail does have its
benefits after all.
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